-My mind stalls. There’s a lapse in time’s progression. It feels like slipping. Slipping away from this world, leaving to some liminal place between here and me. I come back and time has passed, but so slow I wonder if I ever left. How far could I have travelled in so short a time?
But there are remnants. Tiny fractured pieces, like latent images scattered and waiting for the searchlight to turn them, emulsion side up. If only they were material.
My memories consist of splintered hollographic images of times and places I might have once experienced, along with the sediment of the times and places I know I’ve been. They feel anchored, the images, splintered as they are, when I return, if in fact I ever left.
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